By Heather Murphy
Sometimes, my timing is impeccable. I loaded the internet stream from General Conference just in time to watch African delegates responding to the question of GLBT inclusion. The things they said were so awful, so painful, that I shut the stream off. How could I persuade people like that to vote to include me in the church? And how could I respond with cheerful, willing generosity to requests for help from the people who looked me in the eye (well, looked a camera in the eye, anyway) and said that I was evil, demonic, disordered, outside of the church?
I took some time this week to try to learn more about my brothers and sisters in Africa, and here's what I learned.
The UMC has a significant school in Africa, Africa University. It's in Mutare, Zimbabwe.
Zimbabwe's in pretty big trouble. Their economy is in a meltdown, with inflation now over one million percent. One million percent. Hunger is widespread in the face of the economic disaster, and millions of Zimbabweans have fled the country, while millions more live displaced from their homes. The president, Robert Mugabe, has been accused of just about every civil right violation I've ever heard of, including violent attacks against his opposition.
Once, Zimbabwe had one of the highest literacy rates in Africa, but hunger, teachers' strikes, disease, and unrest are causing the national level of literacy to drop rapidly. About 25% of citizens are infected with HIV. In urban areas like Mutare, where the Methodist university is, the HIV rate is closer to 40%. Because few people can afford antiretroviral drugs, people with HIV can look forward to living only a few years before they are struck by life-threatening AIDS symptoms.
As in many African countries, gay sex is illegal in Zimbabwe. Zambabwe goes even farther than many countries, though; new laws have been passed which make any same-sex contact at all, even handholding and hugs, punishable with up to ten years in prison. Homosexuality is strongly taboo culturally, and President Mugabe speaks publicly against homosexuals, claiming that homosexuality is a white scourge imported by colonizers, making gay people the scapegoats for many of Zimbabwe's most serious problems.
And I'm sitting here, using my brand-new laptop with my high-speed connection, alone in an apartment that's big enough to house four or five people. My kitchen is full of food. I'm in excellent health, but I know that I have insurance that'll help me if I get seriously ill. I'm reasonably confident that nothing I can write in this blog is going to result in my being arrested or brutalized by police. I'm thirty five years old and have only once attended a funeral of someone I loved. One of my sisters in Zimbabwe might well say that I live in extravagant wealth and privilege.
This is the point, I think, where I ought to say something profound and useful about the vast difference between our worlds, and about what the right way is to think and act regarding it, and what well-chosen actions and words would result in my brothers and sisters in Africa seeing that I'm not an enemy or a threat, but their sister in Christ, so they'll vote to include me fully in the church. Or maybe I should say that I don't have a right to demand that they understand, when they have so many more serious problems. But I'm honestly not sure what to say.
I think perhaps that my next step is to look for ways to connect with the churches in Africa, not to educate them about GLBT issues but to learn from them about African concerns, and to see what there is for me to do to help. I'm not sure what comes after that.